


Tunnel Vision

by Arcwin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Clueless Castiel, Cuddling Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Eye Sex, Fluff and Humor, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, POV First Person, Short Chapters, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-02-15 20:25:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18676810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcwin/pseuds/Arcwin
Summary: Everything was going fine, until it definitely wasn't. Dean's senses are going haywire, and they all seem to be focused on Cas. It's gotta be some angelic bullshit or somethin', right?Definitely doesn't have anything to do with their more profound bond.Definitely isn't anything as silly as soulmates.Right?





	1. Sound

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! This is another foray into my Dean POV style. Hope you enjoy it! If you like to listen to music while you read, I recommend Hozier "From Eden" as it perfectly captures the feelings I wanted to portray in this fic.

It ain’t right, I tell ya. You know, maybe that vamp blood didn’t quite make its way outta me. It’s like my ears pick up on anything Cas does like it’s a special station just for me. Like I’m the only radio antenna around, and it’s time for _The Cas Show_.

The first time I noticed, it’s cause he was _breathing_. First I thought, maybe he’s just a mouth breather. You know, one of those that don’t know any better? Or like a kid whose nose is chock full of green boogers? So I told him to pipe down. Shut your mouth, breath through your nose like a normal human. Course, he reminded me he ain’t human.

“Semantics, Cas. You’re in a meat suit, aren’t ya?” I asked, turning around to glance at him in the backseat of the Impala once we got to a red light.

He looked down at himself, frowning as he touched the lapels on his coat. “My suit is made of wool, I believe. I don’t understand what that has to do with how I breathe.”

“No, I...nevermind. Just shut your mouth and breath through your nose.” The light turned green, I hit the gas and hoped he got the hint.

_In…_

_Out…_

_In…_

_Out…_

“Cas!” I snapped, staring at him in the rearview. It felt like every breath he took sucked all the air outta the car. He was breathing so loud I couldn’t hear my Zep. Hell, I couldn’t even hear Baby as she roared down the backcountry highway.

To my right, Sammy stared at me with those stupid eyebrows of his all knotted up. “Dean, you okay?” he asked, looking back and forth between me and Cas.

“Yeah, I’m okay, just...will you help him? All I can hear is him breathing,” I said under my breath. Don’t need to embarrass the guy, he’s new to this whole being inside a human thing. Then, louder, I joked, “Cas, you got a megaphone back there or somethin’?”

“Dean, I do not understand your complaints. I have my mouth shut.”

“You doin’ some kinda...oh, I dunno, some kinda angelic breathing then? All I can hear is _you_. Right, Sammy?”

“No, Dean. Maybe you should pull over, let me drive for a while.”

“I’m fine, dammit! Just...I’ll just turn up the music and put the window down.”

_In…_

_Out…_

_In…_

_Out…_

I kept my mouth shut and drove. Zep was blaring, engine roaring, window down and wind whipping past, and still, it was just Cas’ breathing. It was like the entire world stopped making sound whenever he took a breath, making sure all I could hear was him. Like being underwater.

Once we hit the motel, I threw Baby in park and jumped outta her, happy to get away from him. Both Cas and Sammy were probably thinking all sorts of worried bullshit, but I just needed some space for a minute. I didn’t want to feel trapped inside Cas’ lungs anymore.

“If this keeps up, I’m gonna have to invest in some earplugs,” I told myself as I walked away from them, hands shoved into my coat pockets.

“Dean?” Cas called after me, nervous.

Shook my head and kept walking. Needed to put space between us, or I might do or say something stupid. After walking for a while longer than I planned, I made it back to the motel room. The lights were on, so before I knocked I listened for Cas.

There was nothing, just the crickets under the step and some perfumey flowers nearby. Awesome. I had barely touched the door when Cas flung it open, eyes wide as he looked me up and down.

“Dean. Are you--”

“I'm fine, Cas. Just needed some air.” I waited and watched him breathe. Nothing out of the ordinary there, so I pushed past, patting his shoulder, and made a beeline for the sixer on the table. Sammy glanced up at me from Dad’s journal, made a face, and went back to reading once I cracked one open and plopped down in the other chair at the table. “Gonna stand in the door all night like a kid waiting for Santa?”

Cas shut the door, shoulders up around his ears, and mumbled something to himself that I didn’t care to ask about. I was just glad I couldn’t feel every goddamn breath he took anymore. So down the hatch went the cold one, and things went back to normal.

Well, normal for us, anyway.

Until it happened again. And _again_.

And, _fuck_ , like I said before, it ain’t right. It don’t happen all the time, or I think I’d end up jabbing pencils in my ears. But when it _does_ , when the world stops making sound except for whatever it is Cas is up to, I can’t get away from it. Sometimes it’s the sound of the blood in his body, thumping like a bass drum so loud it feels like a subwoofer’s in my head. Other times it’s his fingers tapping on the table as he waits, or his footsteps as he walks behind me.

It’s always outta nowhere, and it’s _always_ Cas.

Some kinda angelic bullshit is what I say it is.


	2. Sight

Ya ever get tunnel vision? _Real_ tunnel vision? It’s beyond weird. Everything goes black, except for the thing you’re lookin’ at, and it feels like nothing else is important ‘cept that thing.

Or person, apparently.

The first time I met Cas, me and Bobby were in this hanger, trying to figure out what in the heck was going on. It was right after I crawled outta my own grave. There was a huge thunderstorm, though in hindsight that was probably Cas making all them heavenly fireworks. Anyway, he finally shows up, and that’s when it happened. _Tunnel vision._

Things were fine up to that point. Well, ya know, the Winchester definition of _fine_.

First I thought it was a trick. Some demonic trick he was playing on me, making me forget that anything else existed. Then, he told me who he was, and I thought okay, this is some heavenly bullshit. Maybe this is what happened to the prophets in the good ol’ book--they laid eyes on their own holy tax accountant and the rest of the world went black.

But, I ain’t no prophet. Hell, I ain’t even a halfway decent person most of the time, so I can’t figure out why this keeps happening to me. From the moment Cas arrived in my life, things have been _different_. When I look at him, I get tunnel vision nearly every time. It don’t last the whole time he’s around, thankfully, otherwise I’d end up getting my ass handed to me more often than I already do. No peripherals make things real freakin’ tough when you’re hunting supernatural baddies who ain’t got no concept of fair fights.

I wonder if he knows it’s happening to me. More often than not we end up in a staring contest. Maybe it happens to him too. He told me that apparently, since he pulled me outta hell, we have a _more profound bond_. Now if that ain’t some chick flick bullshit if I ever heard it. But, I guess it kinda makes sense, too.

The other day we were just standing around the Impala in the mountains of Montana, drinking a couple beers and enjoying a break. Cas was sitting on a rock, looking at the sunflower-filled valley, and I snatched another cold one and went over to sit with him. I’d never seen so many sunflowers together in one spot, all swaying together in the wind as it blew through the chasm. Their black centers were turned up towards the sky, straining to get ahead of each other. I ain’t one for poetry, but with this sort of view I might be inspired.

“Beer?” I offered as I came up on Cas, holding it out to him.

He blinked, then turned his head and looked up at me. Everything faded to black around us, but at this point I was so used to it that I barely even noticed. This time it was different, though. It was like my eyes got better somehow, focusing in on every little detail. It wasn’t just the tunnel this time.

Cas’ eyes are so blue they look fake, like some kid colored them in with a crayon. Found myself admiring his eyelashes, which seem too long to be anything but a 50 cent stick on. He’s always got a bit of stubble, just a dusting of hair that never seems to grow out even though I never see him shave. He nodded, never looking away or blinking, and took the beer from my hand. Didn’t find that I cared, just staring at him and noticing everything like it was the first time I’d ever seen him. Maybe it was, in a weird way. It was the first time I realized how much of a looker he is.

The right side of his mouth pulled up at the corner as he smiled, then said, “Hello, Dean. Thank you.” He tipped his beer towards mine, clinking the bottles together, though I felt it more than heard it, stuck way down deep in that tunnel. I must have been grinning like some sorta fool, cause then he smiled so wide it made the skin around his eyes get all crinkly, and I realized it then.

_I’m in love._

Still thinkin’ it might be some angelic bullshit.


	3. Smell

It’s like vanilla, but not like vanilla ice cream. See, it’s more like... like the smooth, honey rich vanilla that you get with a glass of bourbon. The kind that makes you think vanilla even though really, it ain’t vanilla at all, it’s oak or something.

That’s what Cas smells like right after he shows up. I got this theory that it’s got something to do with those massive wings of his. Even though I ain’t seen ‘em, I know they’re there cause every time he pops up there’s a _woosh_ of wind that flies into my face and all I can smell is vanilla. And I doubt it’s from the trench coat. That thing’s gotta be covered in all sorts of fluids, none of which smell at all like vanilla, if I had to guess.

“Cas, why is it you always smell like bourbon-y vanilla?” I asked him the other day as soon as Sammy left to go get us some coffees. There’s no way I was gonna do it with the moose around, sticking his dumb nose into my business like he always does. I know he’s already got a buncha theories about me and Cas--no need to add fuel to his cupid’s fire.

Cas frowned and looked up from the ancient horticultural book he was leafing through for research. Our primary suspect for the witchcraft in the area had a greenhouse full of weird old plants and flowers that Sam was sure was a part of the witch’s rituals, but we didn’t know exactly how.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

Leaning over the table towards him, I said, “Hey, nothing to be embarrassed about. In fact, and don’t tell Sammy this, but I kinda like it. Better than B.O., or farts or somethin’.” Immediately I wanted to smack myself in the forehead for that stupid statement, but I kept my cool.

“I am _never_ embarrassed,” Cas argued, still frowning.

“ _Right_ ,” I said to myself while he kept going.

“And I do not have flatulence. Ever.” His big blues darted around as he thought about what I said, then focused back on me. “When do I smell this way? All the time?”

Shook my head and said, “Nah, just during takeoff and landing.”

“Take off and land--”

“When you show up and when you leave,” I clarified.

His eyes unfocused as he thought about it, then asked, “Has Sam noticed the same thing?”

“Didn’t ask.” I shook my head and laughed, thinking about what Sammy’s face would look like if I mentioned that Cas smells like _vanilla_ , of all things. That’d be just asking for it. No thanks.

Cas tilted his head, confused. “Why didn’t you ask?”

I rubbed the back of my neck and looked away, uncomfortable (as always) when it comes to explaining to him why we do what we do and don’t do what we don’t do. “Well, _damn_ , Cas, it’s not very... _manly_ to talk about how other men smell, ya know? ‘Less it’s to complain about somethin’ gross.”

“Like body odor and farts,” he offered flatly.

I grinned and nodded. “Yep.”

“So why are you talking about it with me?” he asked softly, eyes searching mine in a way that made my cheeks hot and my stomach flip like a Mexican jumping bean.

I shrugged it off and said, “Dunno, I must be a cat, full of curiosity and a death wish, I suppose.” Cas kept staring at me, not getting it _at_ _all_ , but before he could jump in with more questions I asked, “So? Why?”

He nodded slowly and replied. “You must be referring to the scent of Grace. My wings are coated with it to enable smooth transitions between Heaven and Earth. Odd,” he added, gazing at me with a curious look on his face. “ _Most_ mortals cannot detect it.”

“Well damn how many mortals you know hang around with an angel on a regular basis?” I just knew it, knew that he was gonna say that this is due to our _profound bond_ , due to the fact that I carry his brand on my arm. Had to try somethin’ else first. Our bond is there, no doubt about that, but it ain’t like we’re _soulmates_. That's just _crazy_.

Shaking his head, he ignored my poor excuse for an explanation and said, “No, it must related to our--”

“ _More profound bond_ ,” I finished for him, looking down at my hands on the table.

Neither of us spoke after that for a while, but the clock across the room just kept ticking, filling the silence. It was annoying, just ticking away. Counting the time we spent feeling uncomfortable. I got up to 178 before Cas cleared his throat and spoke.

“Dean, are you embarrassed about the connection we share?”

I sputtered and coughed on my own spit. _Real_ smooth. Pounding on my chest while I cleared my throat, I shook my head. “No, no, nothing like that.” I coughed some more to try to clear my pipes and looked away, tears welling up in my eyes.

“Every time I mention it you seem irritated,” Cas pushed, ignoring every freaking clue that this was the last thing I wanted to talk about.

“Dammit, Cas, I ain't embarrassed, or irritated, or...or... anything like that!” I choked out.

There was a _woosh,_ and then the wave hit me.

 **_Vanilla_**.

Wish I didn't feel the need to spout such bullshit instead of saying what's really on my mind.


	4. Touch

There’s something I’ve learned about Cas.

He’s got more muscle underneath all those layers than he lets on. Wiry,  _ strong _ muscle that shifts around under his skin. He don't look like much most of the time, just a dark haired dweeb in a trench with a scratchy Barry White voice. I never woulda known any better if I hadn’t  _ touched _ him.

Not like that. I didn’t ‘ _touch_ _him’_ touch him, I just... touched him. Like dudes do. 

Okay, maybe a little more than normal dudes do. But there was a reason. You see, the last time we talked, I basically put my foot in my mouth. He asked me somethin’ important and I...well, I froze like a damn wimp. And then, he left.

Not just the way he usually does. He  _ really _ left. We didn’t see him for almost a month, even though Sam called him pretty much every day. And every time he got Cas’ voicemail, he pursed his lips and shrugged at me, puppy dog eyes and all. After the third time, he asked me to do it. 

“Naw, he’s probably just busy, Sammy. Anyway, we don’t need him,” I argued, hoping to sound convincing. Truth is, I didn’t like that he was gone any more than Sam did, but I didn’t want to sound...well, y’know.  _ Desperate. _

“ _Busy_?” Sam said back to me, eyebrows all worked up. “He’s been glued to us for the past 8 months and now he’s suddenly _too_ **_busy_**?” I shrugged and threw Baby into reverse, circling the wheel around as we pulled out of our parking space. “Did something happen between you two?” 

Glaring at him, I snapped, “Are you freaking kidding me, man?!”

“Sorry, geez.” He backed down and stared out the front windshield, hand tapping on the dash. “I’m just worried.”

As we pulled onto the highway, I cleared my throat and said, “He’s fine.”

He wasn’t. Neither was I. 

As the month rounded out, I was crawling outta my skin. It felt like I was itching all over my body, like there were tiny bugs crawling all over me and I couldn’t get them off. Every day I woke up hoping that it was the day Cas came back, and every night when I downed my fifth or sixth or seventh (or eighth) beer the burning in my chest got worse. 

Sammy bought me a bottle of Jack for my birthday, had a shot with me, then went to the library to grab some books for the night. I took my bottle and went outside, finding a picnic table nearby that I could sit down at. Dusk was starting to settle in, so I took a few swigs and sat back. Across the parking lot the street lamp flickered and sputtered, making a high-pitched whine that was barely above nails on a chalkboard in terms of worst sounds in the world. 

I sighed, and took another swig.

Another day without him. Another day without suddenly feeling like there were headphones in my ears that were directly connected to his heart. Another day without the rest of the world going black while Cas shone brighter than high-beams in oncoming traffic. Another day without vanilla sticking to my clothes. Another day feeling like I was going crazy because he wasn’t around.

“Cas,” I said finally. “I miss you.”

With a shiver, I looked up at the stars, finding the big dipper quickly even as my vision started to get a little blurry from the Jack. I held the bottle up to my mouth, and right as I was about to drown the lead weight in my chest in booze, I smelled it-- _ vanilla _ . The world around me started to fade, black spots crowding out everything else until I swung my head around and saw Cas sitting next to me at the table. He took a deep, gut-filling breath that I felt down to my toes, and let it out as a sigh that took every ounce of tension out of my shoulders.

“Hello De--”

We almost fell off the picnic bench as I threw my arms around him before he could even finish saying my name. He took a moment, probably a bit surprised, and then hugged back.  _ Hard _ . Like I said--I learned that under that trench coat and poorly kept suit of his, Cas feels like he could give the Man of Steel a run for his money in an arm wrestle.

And damn if it ain’t the best thing I’ve felt in a long ass time.

It ain’t nothing to do with the fact that he’s an angel, either. It’s cause he’s Cas, and my body seems to be drawn to his no matter what I do. So, to _hear_ only him, _see_ only him, _smell_ only him, and then _touch_ _only_ **_him_**? Well, I gotta say, it feels like _home_.

Which is weird when you think about it, since I’ve never really had a home. Aside from Baby, which counts in alotta ways but doesn’t feel like this. As we sat together, huggin’ like some Lifetime movie moment, it felt like I oughta say something to him about it. Like I needed to apologize, or explain, or just... _ something _ . I kept thinking he was gonna start to loosen up, let go of me a little or give me a sign that he was done, but he held me like he never wanted to let me go, and to be honest...I didn’t want him to, either. So we just sat there, arms around each other with everything to say but nothin’ comin’ out. It woulda been awkward except I liked it too much to care, and Cas, well, he’s always awkward but doesn’t realize it. Or, maybe he does but it don’t matter to him. I wish I could be like that, sometimes. 

“I miss you too, Dean,” Cas whispered in my ear, still holding onto me like a life raft in the middle of the ocean. 

I twisted my hand in the back of his coat, pulling at it until he released his vice grip and leaned back, arms still wrapped around me. “Then why’d you leave?” 

He blinked, the only thing changing in that stone face of his, and said, “You find me annoying.”

“Excuse me?” I couldn’t believe my ears. Annoying? “Where the hell did you get that stupid idea?”

He blinked again. “You don’t like our...  _ connection _ .”

“I never said that,” I argued, still wrapped around him like it was the most natural thing I could be doing. Certainly felt like it. “You left before I could explain!”

Cas narrowed his eyes and looked away, remembering our last conversation. “Perhaps I left...prematurely,” he said slowly. “I was nervous.”

“Hey,” I said, turning his chin so he’d look at me again. The world around us got even darker, fading away as I stared into his wide, blue eyes. This right here, this was the ultimate romcom, chick flick moment of the century. I felt it in me, the sudden urge to lean forward and just--

Dammit. You know, anyone would feel like this if their entire freaking body got hijacked on the regular by a pretty damn good looking angel who’s saved their lives more than once, right?

Anyway. “I wasn’t doing a good job of explaining. You don’t got nothin’ to worry about with me, okay Cas? Promise, I’m far from annoyed,” I said, doing my best to sound reassuring and...well, freakin’ normal. Normal as I  _ can _ be, at least.

He nodded, those big blues still wide and wary, like he wanted to believe me but wasn’t sure I was telling the truth. Don’t blame him--I’m not known for being honest. Especially with how I feel. And though I was trying to tell him the full story, somethin’ inside me wasn’t ready. Hell, I wasn’t even really sure what the full story was. So, instead…

“Drink? It’s my birthday, you know.”

I leaned and twisted away from him, breaking the circle of his arms, and grabbed at the Jack bottle. Ran away to booze again, like I always do. Part of me thought he might stop me. The other part really wanted him to. 

All of me was disappointed when he took the bottle from my hand and poured several large gulps down the hatch.

“Happy Birthday, Dean.”


	5. Taste

I don’t know how we got here.

That’s a lie. I know _how_ we got here, I just can’t believe that we were both able to pull our heads out of our asses long enough to actually make it here.

I’d like to think the bottle of Jack helped. So, in a way, Sammy helped, though he’d be more than a little red in the face to find out. Dammit, I don’t even know what I’m going to tell him. Maybe I don’t need to explain. Kid’s got more than his fair share of brains. He’s probably already got it figured out.

Anyway, Cas and I drank together, sitting shoulder to shoulder on that picnic table under the stars until the world got real spinny and I started leaning on him more and more. He wrapped his arm around my waist to stop me from sliding off the table, and then his fingers started…

 _Well_. He started stroking my side. Slowly, just running up and down, hard enough not to tickle me but soft enough to feel _real_ _good_. I just sorta slumped against him and focused on how he felt: warm, strong, and safe. All things I ain’t felt in a long, long time.

I knew, then and there, that we weren’t gonna be the same after that.

Somehow, we ended up in my bed at the motel room. Not like _that--_ Cas is an angel, after all. Okay, so most of the angels we know haven’t been gentlemanly like, but Cas takes his job seriously. A little too seriously sometimes, if you ask me. Maybe he carried me back, maybe I walked and don’t remember it. I bet regardless Sam had all sorts of eyebrows and puckered-up lips about it once we got inside, though he was probably real happy to see Cas again.

I woke up with a headache, a hard-on, and my arms full of a dark-haired angel. And no complaints.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” I said quietly, worried that I might wake up Sammy and ruin the moment.

Cas just hummed and pressed himself against me, squirming around in a way that put all sorts of filthy ideas in my head. “How are you?” He tipped his head back and looked up at me.

“Not too bad.”

He reached up and touched his fingers to my forehead, erasing my headache, and smiled. “You shouldn’t drink so much, Dean.”

I nodded and smiled back. “I was nervous.”

“Are you nervous now?”

I wasn’t. Squeezing my arms tighter around him, I pulled him up until we were sharing the pillow--something I never thought I’d get to do with him but that I was damn pleased was happening. “Cas, I got somethin’ to tell you,” I said, wrapping my leg around his. “I’ve been having these...episodes where it feels like...well, damn, this is gonna sound so crazy when I say it out loud.” I swallowed and shut my eyes, trying to come up with how the hell I was going to explain to him that the world stops existing when he’s around without sounding like a full on bodice-ripper paperback from the women’s section at Barnes and Noble.

“Nothing you say sounds crazy, Dean,” he said when I didn’t continue.

I sighed and shook my head. “Lots of things I say sound crazy, Cas, and this just might be one of the craziest. I...well, I guess you could say that sometimes, it’s like...you ever get tunnel vision?”

He nodded, so I kept going, figurin’ this train was already barrelling down the tracks and I may as well just go along for the ride.

“It’s like that, but with everything. Like all my senses just get tunnel vision all of a sudden, and they’re all…”

His hand started stroking up and down my back, fingers tracing all the bumps in my spine, and that was all it took for it to start happening again. I could feel his heart, his breath, the pulse beneath his skin. The world faded to black, but he shone brighter than any star. The sound of his blood pumping through his veins filled my head as it raced along, pitter-pattering faster and faster until it seemed like it was going to burn out. It felt like he was filling up my very soul, like he was taking me over and I was happy to give him all of it.

“Is it happening now, Dean?” he asked, and his voice was like thunder in my chest.

I nodded, on the verge of being overwhelmed by him, and I wondered if this is what his true form would feel like if he could show me without burning my eyes outta my sockets.

_“I can feel it too.”_

The wave came crashing down around me as I pulled his face to mine, determined to figure out exactly what angels _taste_ like. The answer: they taste like the first spring rain after it falls into a honeysuckle. Fresh, sweet, and crisp, full of promise and sunshine. For all the time I’ve spent being annoyed by the angels, they gotta be the first children of God if they all taste like this.

I was tired of hiding from it, of hiding from him and myself. So I went for it, and it was _beyond_ **_awesome_**. He gripped me like he did the night before, like he never wanted to let me go, and we kissed like we’d done it a thousand times. Like it was the most natural thing in the world to do, because let’s face it--it was. I drowned in him--his body pressed against me, his lips on mine, his heartbeat in my head, and his breath in my ears. It didn’t matter that we were making out in a shitty motel room with my little brother in the next bed. It didn’t matter that he’s an angel and I’m not, or that we’re both dudes. Nothing mattered but the way our bodies connected. I saw nothing but his baby blues and that cute little smirk he has when he knows somethin’ no one else does, and dammit I was falling _hard_.

“Cas,” I whispered when he pulled away to breathe. “What do you mean, you can feel it too?”

“Dean, what you’re describing, it’s...well, it’s how it is for me all the time.” He smiled at me, a real sweet, bashful sorta smile that made me wanna take his face in my hands and kiss it all over. “When I’m around you,” he added.

I didn’t understand how in the hell he could function if this is how it was _all_ the time. “How long has it been goin’ on?”

“Since I fought my way through the legions of Hell and found you,” he said like it was the same as running into me at the goddamn grocery store.

Running my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, I asked, “How do you walk without runnin’ into walls?”

He chuckled. “I’ve grown...accustomed to it.” He squirmed even closer to me, and I gave up all hopes of hiding my morning wood from him. As he pressed his hips into mine, it was obvious he didn’t seem to mind.

“So… what is... _this_?” I asked, trying to distract myself from the horny angel in my arms. “I just assumed it was some kinda angelic bullshit or somethin’, but if it’s happening to you too, then…?”

He frowned up at the ceiling. “Dean, I was unaware. Had I known your experience, I would have acted sooner, and for that, I apologize.”

“Whoa, whoa, what?” I pulled back and stared him down. “What are you apologizing for? Ain’t nothing wrong with this. Unless it’s some kinda curse, though if it is, I can’t say I’m complaining--”

“This is how soulmates feel,” he interrupted, meeting my gaze again.

I nearly choked. There’s no way I heard that right. “Wanna run that by me again?”

“ _Soulmates_ , Dean.” There was something off about his face, something that told me he wanted to be happy but didn’t think he could.

“Well, _hell_.”

Loosening his grip on me, he asked, “Does that bother you? If it does, I can leave, and--”

“Now don’t you go runnin’ off on me,” I stopped him, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him closer. Last thing I wanted was for him to disappear again. “I’m just...it’s just a lot to process, is all. I’m not complaining, I just...well, I guess I just didn’t know that soulmates were a real thing.”

Cas nodded, face all sorts of serious. Still worried that I was gonna push him away, have some kind of heterosexual crisis or somethin’. Hell, I kept thinking maybe I would too. Like maybe I was just in shock and my brain hadn’t caught up to my body yet. Then again, it’s not like I depend on my brain for too much, especially when it comes to who and what I like. I just let my body do the talking, and it ain’t usually wrong.

And, this time, I just _knew_ it wasn’t wrong.

“But now I know they are, and well, Cas?” I cradled his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me even though I could tell it was the last thing he wanted to do.

He swallowed. “Yes?”

I leaned in and kissed him gently on his lips. “I’m real glad you’re mine.”

His eyes got so big I thought they might pop outta his skull, and then he wrapped himself around me like a freakin’ octopus. We kissed again and again, going quickly from chaste Grandma straight to naughty Catholic school girl--sloppy and full of tongue and teeth.

Things were moving fast, complete with busy hands, when Sammy reminded us that he was, unfortunately, still in the room.

“Um, guys?” He cleared his throat. Cas either didn't hear him or didn't care, continuing to pay the side of my neck a _lot_ of attention with his mouth.

“No one invited you,” I grumbled at Sam.

“I'll just…”

The door creaked as it opened, then slammed shut, and I knew we’d hear about it later. Didn’t care, though. Not with Cas working his way into my pants.

“I think I’m gonna like this whole soulmates thing…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fin!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this! It was a blast to write. These two make me feel so warm and fuzzy inside. I have a couple other Destiel works and a whole lot of Johnlock on this site--let me know what you think! 
> 
> Until next time! Take care y'all!


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